Temper Temper
by GrumpySunshine
Summary: Penelope is new to the reservation and living on her own. She's hot blooded and has foot in mouth syndrome. Embry doesn't mind, even if she did almost hit him with her car. He's in love with the brunette from the OC. Embry/OC. Canon pairings. Imprint
1. Prologue

_Prologue_

"Dude..."

Don't be fooled. The scorn in my voice is one hundred percent genuine, I assure you.

I glared through my windshield at the dumb ass in the middle of the street, who was, apparently, trying to get himself run over. Which is just brilliant, really. I have nothing against people with a death wish. They always know how to brighten up a room.

"What the hell do you think you're_ doing_?" I was yelling before I even had my door open, but that's besides the point. I'm somewhat positive that the I'm-not-even-kidding-when-I-say-I'm-going-to-kill-you look I'm throwing his way pretty much speaks for itself.

The keys were still in the ignition, allowing my rundown truck to grumble out obscenities via its loud mouth engine along with me. Yeah, we kind of just clicked like that.

"Do you realize how _stupid_ you are?" I stalked right up to said idiot, not even caring that he was related to giants, or Hercules, or carried a mutated gene of DNA that made him exponentially huge. You know I'm pissed when reality seems to have checked out the Bed and Breakfast I call my brain.

He looked like everyone else around this small town, minus the largeness thing he had going on. And the shirtless thing he had going...off, I guess. Because giants take steroids too, and they like showing off the goods. You know how it goes.

His skin resembled soil and his muscles were like rocks. They were totally into the earth way out here. That's what happens when you move further north in this country. Just look at what the Canadians got going with their ice. They're always skating on it, or playing hockey or...whatever the hell else you can do on ice.

And yeah, I know Canada isn't apart of this country and that ice is water and not dirt. I'm witty, not dumb.

His hair was black and short, shaved on both sides of his head. You could totally tell it was an at home job. He probably butchered the thing himself. The jeans he wore were torn at the knees and frayed at the ends. They were baggy and looked like they were a size to big for him. He wasn't wearing any shoes either. Which is weird, considering he was walking in the middle of the street in some of the coldest weather I had ever frozen my butt off in.

It wasn't even raining yet. Curse my stars for being a California baby. I was spoiled with constant sunburns and endless access to UV rays. Now I'm going to slowly and painfully freeze to death.

"Well?" I demanded. "You going to explain yourself, gargantuan? Or you just going to stand there staring at me for heaven knows what?"

He was being quite rude. The staring mixed with the whole unblinking thing he had going on was not an acceptable social pass time. I might even call it an uncomfortable _faux par_. Not that it was getting to me or something equally as ridiculous as that. No, not even a little bit of uneasiness could be felt through my pissed-off-ness.

For cripes sake, I had almost hit someone with my car! And it wasn't even my fault!

I used my pinkie finger to point at him ominously, because the pinkie finger always means business when shits about to go down. I learned from experience when I was five and knocked over my family's thousand pound, ancient TV and almost killed myself. I could never look at my mother's pinkie the same way again without getting the willies. Oh what a dark day that had been.

"If you want to go and get yourself killed," I shouted up at his shocked face, "there are a lot less painful ways to do it! And I sure as hell won't be responsible for killing some suicidal bean stalk who jumped out in front of my truck! I don't even care how vertically gifted you are, cause my truck would have laid your ass out flat! And then what, you son of a biscuit? Do you know how much trouble I would be in? Seeing as how you aren't exactly harvesting any brain cells in that tiny brain of yours, I'm sure you're probably not aware of this, but killing is a sin. A sin! You don't_ even _want to see me if you inadvertently make me a sinner. Good old Saint Peter couldn't hold me back before I got my hands on you!"

He was shaking from head to foot, most likely in fear. I had that effect on people.

I crossed my arms and held my head high in challenge. Let him riddle me that one without digging himself a deeper hole.

The jerk had the nerve to smile. "Isn't cussing a sin?"

"I said biscuit, not bitch," I snapped.

His smile grew and shaking slowed. "My names Embry."

"Mine is confidential. Now you want to get your ass off the street so I don't have to run you over purposely to get by?"

"If you ran me over with your truck on purpose, then you'd _really _be a sinner."

"Different situation. God will forgive me."

"For killing me on purpose, but not an accident?"

"Don't question me!" I glared at him, attempting to melt him with my mind. "Get off the road!"

"What's your name?"

"Confidential. Get off the road."

"I'll move out of your way if you tell me your name."

"You'll move out of my way right now, or I'll go through you."

"Embry Call. That's my full name."

"Irrelivant. Move."

"What's your name?"

"I'm hitting you with my truck." I spun on my heel and marched straight back to my door. Honestly, what's he got to be all up in my business for? If it wasn't for my amazing driving skills, he'd be a pancake right now. If anything, he should be kneeling at my feet smothering me with his gratitude. Didn't he know how these things worked?

I stepped up into my truck and slammed the door. He was standing right in front of my truck with his hands pressed flat against the hood, restaining me.

Apparently this whole concept was just over his head.

I honked at him. Repeatedly.

"What's your name?" he shouted over the sound of my horn.

I stepped on the gas.

* * *

**Thank you everyone for giving this story a chance! Please review and let me know what you think of the story so far :) Sorry about all teh grammar and spelling errors. Spell Check just does not want to be my friend right now haha**

**Thank you again and please review!**

**-GrumpySunshine**


	2. Chapter 1

____

_Previously That Day..._

* * *

They were all held back. That, or La Push really knows how to grow them, if you know what I mean. They had all better be seniors, or I'm wearing heels the next time I set foot in this vacinity.

Which isn't necessarily a good idea, considering. But that's only a minor detail.

"And this door to your left," Mr. Collins, the La Push High School principal, pointed out to me, "is the teacher's lounge. Feel free to put your lunch in the refridgerator. Just make sure to put your name on it, or else it's up for grabs with the staff." He gave me a you-know-how-it-is look, and turned back around.

Because, yeah, I've obviously spent so much time around teachers and their watering hole. Where does this guy think I'm from? Do I look like the hair in a bun, glasses on the end of my nose, high school teacher type?

I think it not.

The genetically altered students, however, kept most of my attention and I ended up ignoring most of what he said. Not that is wasn't interesting or anything like that. Or because the school was the size of a salt grain on a peanut and I could easily find anything I was looking for by turning around. But, hey. Semantics.

"And this," he said, stopping in front of a pair of double doors and turning to face me, "Is our gymnasium." He pushed on of the doors open for me -chivalry and all that, don't you know- and ushered me inside.

The gym was nothing new. And when I say 'nothing new', I mean nothing _new_. The paint on the floor outlining the basket ball court and volley ball lines were faded. The floor itself? Scuffed. The basketball hoops had no nets, and the bleachers...well, I'm kind of afraid to sit on them. But you didn't hear that from me.

It was perfect! Had all sorts of character, and, you know, provided a bigger chance that they'd hire me again. Mainly because they don't have many other choices to choose from and I just happened to be one of them.

"So, where can I plug this in?" I shook my boom box at him that I'd been carrying around since I got here. Was it heavy? Not really, thanks for asking. Did I want to put it down already? Jah.

"Oh, right! Well, you can plug that in just about anywhere - we have outlets on either side of the gym. But be careful of the top outlet on the far side. It's been known to shock a few people." He had leaned in to tell me the last part, as if crappy electricity was something we were all expected to keep on the hush hush about here on the rez.

"First period starts in ten minutes. The gym teachers will help you with any problems you might have." He clapped me on the shoulder, smiling. "Good luck."

Peachy.

I huffed at the outlet on the far side of the gym. My adversary today, as it were.

Thank God for batteries, that's all I'm saying. And yes, I brought my own. Boyscouts motto and all that jazz.

I put my boom box -blue, and pretty shnazzy looking if I do say so myself- on top of one of the bleacher's seats. I pressed play and turned the volume up to a pretty obnocious level (to match my personality).

The weights I had requested were already in a pile on the floor. They were the school's, so they were pretty beat up looking. They were bar weights and the padding they had was mostly peeled off. I may be wrong, but I'm guessing that the students did that.

Well, at least they came in different sizes. Ten punds may not seem like much, but who knew what kind of excersize the students here could handle. After seeing a few of the monsters walking down the hallway a few minutes ago, it shouldn't be so hard for at least some of the students to keep up with my lesson.

The bright side of life.

I started to loosen up my muscles, getting pumped for class. I had done this plenty of times before, so it wasn't as if I wasn't used to having to make teenagers put forth physical effort for school. It was like pulling teeth without the novacane.

I had been teaching Kick Boxing classes for the last five years. I had been taking classes myself since I was seventeen, and when I got offered a job as an instructor after graduation, well, it wasn't any sweat off my back.

Not literally, since, you know, kick boxing is pretty strenuous and all that.

I had gone to a couple high schools back then too. It was supposed to be another unit for the kids or something. I didn't really look to closely into the matter. As long as my checks didn't bounce, I was cool with it.

I know I sound all dry and whatever when I talk about this stuff, but I'm pretty into it. It's freaking bomb diggity. So I was pretty psyched when I got the opportunity to open up my own place.

Sure, It was in a completely different state,that didn't have one familiar face for me, but hey. Braching out was supposed to be new and exciting and whatnot. And if it's not...well, I'll just poo.

My apartment was in Forks, as was my Kick Boxing studio. Ironic that my first paying job was in a city over, eh?

I had moved in two weeks ago, so I had time to move all of my junk into my apartment and set up the studio. I liked where In was living, so that's a plus. Just a little, one bedroom apartment with a tiny backyard. With this weather, I highly doubted that I would be going outside anyway, so that works out. My nieghbors seemed kinda seedy, but I could take them any day of the week. Plus, I had pepper spray, courtesy of good old Dad. I also had a shiny new police whistle that I was never going to use, coutesy of my mom. It's the thought that counts, anyway.

My studio, which was in the same cetner as some wannabe Big 5 store, was pretty small too. All of my equipment filled up the entire space. All of my matts, and wieghts, and sparring equipment. There was a desk up front and a little sitting area for the parents incase they signed their kids up and wanted to watch them practice. Got to orient the place towards family and all that.

I already had a few people come by and pick up some infor sheets. Score!

The double doors on the opposite side of the gym opened and a groupd of identical looking kids all flowed in.

Okay, maybe not exactly identical, but they all had the same skin tone, general hair color, and they were wearing their PE uniforms. So basically identical.

I smiled at them all, even if they did look at me like I had narscacist personality syndrome.

I clapped my hands together. "Whose ready to sweat?"

* * *

The final bell rang. I put my hands on my hips and twisted around to crack my spine. Today's work out was pretty mellow, but I could tell that the kids were done with it after the first ten minutes.

And that was only the warm up. Can't you just hear my diabolical laughter?

My muscles felt all warm and stretched out. That's why I liked coming to the high schools to teach a few classes. It was an easy work out for me every hour. Every instructors dream.

Well, every lazy instructors dream, but I enjoyed it just the same.

I grabbed my boom box and made my way out of the gym. I was sweaty looking, and my pony tail was kind of loose, but that didn't bother me much. I got a few looks as I passed the students through the hall. That was most likely because I made them participate in my regimine, or because I was wearing a pair of baggy work out shorts instead of a pair of jeans. And I would agree with them there, but putting on my jeans without showering first would be yucky.

When I got to my truck in the parking lot, most of the students had already gone. I unlocked my door and put my boom box in the passenger seat. I hopped up, closed my door and turned on the heater.

Perfect way to end the day.

I put my truck in gear and started on the drive back home. That was another thing I liked about this place. It was only a fifteen minute drive from here to Forks, and only an extra five to get to my apartment complex. Pretty easy set up if I do say so myself.

It must have drizzled why I was in school -aweful thought, I know- because the streets were all black and wet. I turned on my radio, bobbing my head back and forth to the station's music. There was hardly anyone out on the road today, which was kind of weird. I thought that at least a few of the teenagers would be up to something no good. Doughnuts in the parking lot, graffity someone's car, something interesting.

No such luck.

I took the turn around the bend in the road easily enough. I had been back and forth down this road earlier in the week to set up my temporary schedule at the school, so I was pretty confident about driving around here.

That, and I was not known to be a defensive driver. It was either get out of my way, or I'll explode at you.I inherited the road rage from my mom. It's why I love her so much.

So when the deer, raccoon, or whatever animal that was indigenous to this area, suddenly bolted into the street, I was pretty quick to slam on my brakes. The screeching sound they made must have caught the dumb animals attention, because they froze where they stood in the middle of the street. That's when I noticed that it wasn't some stupid animal whose brain had frozen in this weather, but an actual human being.

My eyes narrowed at the man standing in front of my car.

"Dude..."

* * *

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I'm gald to hear that you all enjoyed the story so far :)**

**Okay, before anyone gets confused, this story completely ignores Breaking Dawn. There will be no Cullens, Bella or Nessie. My story is just going to focus on the wolves, Embry and Penelope. It's set a few years into the future, so everyone is going to be a few years older than they were in the books.**

**And I'm sorry if anything in my story is italisized that shouldn't be. FanFiction's stupid editing thing is spazzing out on me, and I had to rewrite this AN about ten different times. Thank you for understanding my dilemma, I appreciate it.**

**-GrumpySunshine**


	3. Chapter 2

_Basic Synopsis of My Day_

1) Went to work

2) Had a near hit and miss with a sasquatch

3) Sat uncomfortably on a couch in a stranger's living room

...yeah, that about sums it up.

And how exactly, you ask, did I end up in a stranger's home? It's quite simple really. You see, I may or may not have put my truck in reverse before I slammed on the gas. And I may or may not have panicked when Embry (the village idiot, I've come to realize) fell forward and cushioned his fall with his face.

There also may or may not have been blood pouring down his nose like water from a leaky faucet.

He was on his feet again in a blink, so I didn't see the need to rush about putting my truck in park and get out and check on him. My seatbelt wasn't cooperating with me anyway.

He had his hands on either side of his nose when I finally pummeled my seat bealt into submission and managed to reopen my door after forgetting that I had locked it when I got in. I was on the outer skirts of his personal bubble when I stopped.

"You look like you're _dying_." I was never a sensitive soul.

His poor nose was crying bloody murder. Literally. Upon further inspection, I found that his knees had gotten a little scuffed up, and the tip of his nose had a cut the size of a staple, but none of those was spitting out his life essence like his nostrils were.

This boy was going to bleed to death right before my eyes, and sad as that thought was, all I could worry about was the fact that I was too young to be seriously traumatized.

"Don't worry 'bout it," he mumbled from underneath his hands. He pulled them away one by one, looking at the blood that dribbled onto his fingers.

Still perplexed by my sudden revelation, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "But you're gross."

Again, my estrogen levels are obviously running on empty. He laughed at that, looking at me with one hand pressed under his nose. "No offense," I tacked on as an after thought. He might gather the village people against me to avenge his hurt pride.

"None taken," he assured me with a smile. It would have been a nice gesture if his lips hadn't been all bloodied up, but that's besides the point.

I focused on his nose with a critical eye. If I was going to kill the boy, I could at least act like I was concerned about it. "You think it's broken?"

There. My first acceptable sentence today. I want it to be dully noted.

"Nah," he shook his head, removing his hand from his face. "It's not even bleeding anymore. See?"

I blew out a gust of air in relief. This wasn't at all as bad as I had initially thought. No post traumatic stress to deal with, no sociopathic tendencies to have hammered away, no-

"Will you answer my question now?"

I gaped at him in disbelief, but he just smiled in all of his bloody glory. Which was actually pretty disgusting, if I didn't make it at all clear before.

"What's going on here?"

We both turned to see where the new voice had come from. A man had stepped out of the woods, and oh- guess what? He was looking to catch a severe case of hypothermia as well. Hot diggity.

He was thicker than Embry was, and believe it or not, a couple inches taller. His hair was black and shaved, but not as close cut like Embry's. He was wearing a pair of ratty jeans that looked like they would fall apart if you so much as looked at the seams wrong, and not much else.

Was it national Dress Like a Hobo Day, and I just missed the memo?

"Sam," Embry greeted him, standing up a bit straighter.

Newcomer Sam nodded once in his direction, before turning his attention to little old me. "Is there a problem here?" he asked, glancing quickly at my truck. Which reminds me...

"Hell yeah, there's a problem!" I slapped the back of my hand against Embry's stomach, barely even getting a flinch out of him to my annoyance. "Do you see a pedestrian crosswalk here?"

It was a rehtorical question, but my silence demanded an answer, as did the bitch brow I had aimed in his direction.

I could tell this Sam fellow was confused by the look he had tried to surrepticiously throw Embry's way. Then he just dropped the whole covert mind-speak look when he caught sight of the blood on Embry's hands.

You would think, as a man, that he could handle seeing dried up blood better than the rest of the population. My mistake.

His face hardened into all sorts of angry lines, and he openly glared at Embry. "What happened?" It was more of a demand than a question. Either way, his 'tude did not sit well with me. Did he not hear me when I spoke, or did he just openly choose to ignore me?

"Were you raised in a barn, or do you always ignore the white people on the res?" Embry's hand was suddenly gripping my upper arm, pulling me back to stand next to him. I batted it away before it had a chance to burn a hole in my sleeve. "First rule of kindergarden: keep your hands to_ yourself_," I snapped.

And I was ignored for the second time in the same conversation. "Bloody nose," Embry said, in way of explanation.

"Bloody nose my left foot!" I turned on the bandwagon baby. "Your friend here has trouble obeying certain traffic laws. Specifically the ones that protect him from becoming road kill."

Sam's eyes widened slightly. I'd like to say with concern for his friend, but who can really tell nowadays? "He was hit by your truck?" He was again back to glaring at Embry, most likely thinking that telepathy was still the best form of private communication.

Embry immeadiately tried to smooth things over. "She missed-"

"Damn right I missed!" I yelled, getting both of their fleeting attention spans focused back on me. "You're lucky all I did was break your nose! My truck could've killed you!"

Sam gave me a once over skeptically. "You broke his nose?"

Was it just me, or did you hear a law suit forming? "Not technically..."

"It was an accident," Embry came to my defense, rubbing at the dried up blood on his face. Not that it helped at all. "It was my fault anyway."

Amen to that brother.

I crossed my arms at Sam's studying gaze and reafirmed quite eloquently that it was, indeed, Embry's fault. "Yeah. What he said."

Embry shot me a quick grin, which I only saw cause it was huge and blinding. And cause he was barely standing six inches away from me. Not that that had much to do with anything.

Sams gaze was suddenly sharper, traveling slowly back and forth between the two of us. He cleared his throat unnecessarily. "Why don't we head home? Emily's probably cooking dinner already." I'm sure he meant it as a question, but just so happened to fail in the delivery.

Embry's eyes snapped up to meet Sam's head on. "Sam..."

He sounded distressed. I wondered if Emily was someone to be scared of, picturing a witch living somewhere in the woods with a wart on the end of her beak like nose, and a duck running around as her only form of company. Maybe he was afraid because he knew that she had put a spell on Sam that would force him to bring unsuspecting village folk to her lair, where she would hand them over to her cannabalistic duck so that he could eat them alive.

Then I decided since I wasn't going, I didn't care.

"If we're quite finished here," I turned to Embry, "don't play on the highway." I turned to Sam. "Happy hunting." I turned back to my car.

"_Wait_!" Embry's hand was wrapped firmly around my wrist before I could take another step towards freedom.

I glared at his stubornness. "What?"

He looked frazzled, and he still sounded distressed about the duck eating him thing. Maybe he was looking to use me as a way to escape and this was his form of reaching out for help.

By not letting me go home to take a shower. Brilliant.

Sam was the on who answered for him. "We could use a lift, if that's okay. Our place isn't far from here."

He looked at me expectantly.

I chanced a look at Embry, who seemed like he was hanging off of my every word. I think my stomach dropped.

Damn duck feeding fiend. Damn my polite, caring ways!

I looked to Sam. "What's the magic word?"

He blinked. "What?"

"What's the magic word?" I repeated, widening my eyes in a every five year old should know this kind of way. But I was nice and gave him a hint. "Can we have a lift...?"

Embry's hand slid down my wrist to squeeze my hand with his. "Please?" he said, apparently not caring that I was fishing for the magic word from his friend and not him.

Dear cheese nips, why is everything around here so dramatic?

I sighed, rolling my eyes in exasperation away from his pleading expression. "O-kay..."

I swear he lit up like a Christmas tree on Candy Cane Lane. He must really believe that there's safety in numbers. Either that, or that duck is extremely vicious.

I walked them over to my truck, sliding into the driver's side, leaning over to unlock the passenger side door and pop the door open for them. Embry smiled the whole time he climbed into the cab and shut the door behind him.

Questioningly, I looked out the back window to see where Sam went.

"Ah, _hell_ no." I slid the little window open, sticking my arm out to point a menacing finger at Sam, who was in the process of climbing into my tailgate. "I don't even think so. Get your ass up here _now._"

He froze, half in half off the tailgate. He had the audacity to actually smirk at me. Me! "I don't think the three of us are goint to fit-"

"Do I look like I give a hoot?" I demanded. "It's unsafe, dangerous, and life threatening. Now either you squeeze your fat ass into the cab, or you're walking home!"

Suffice it to say, I won the argument.

But life's a bitch, and when Sam said that all three of us wouldn't fit in the cab together, he meant it.

Emby sat in the middle, his unnaturally hot epidermis pressed up against my side. I could feel droplets of sweat forming on my stomach. He had one arm propped up behind me on the seat, supposedly because it was more comfortable for him.

Supposedly.

Sam had his window rolled down all the way, leaning his arm and most of his shoulder out of it so he had more room. The wind helped to cool down the rising temperature in the truck, but not by much.

Embry gave me the directions to Emily's house, gleefully excited that he had my attention.

Or a third of it anyway. Most of it was focused on the unfamiliar streets, and the fact that I had to drive out of my way back into La Push instead of back home. C'est la vie.

"Pull in here," Sam directed, beating Embry to the punch. He pointed to the driveway of a cozy looking, one story house. All of the lights were on, reflecting off of the woods in the backyard.

Yeah, they had the forest as their property line. Can someone say bad omen?

I put the truck into park, watching as first Sam, and then a reluctant Embry spilled out of their seats. Embry stopped at the door to look back in at me. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but hesitated.

I offered him a one handed wave, reaching for my gear shift right after.

"Will you come inside?" He blurted out the question as if he couldn't say it fast enough.

Uhm...no?

"Emily's making dinner," he added nervously, gripping the frame of my door so harshly his knuckles started changing color. "You'd really like it..."

"I..." And dammit if he just wasn't so hopeful looking. I sighed resignedly, twisting my keys and pulling them from the ignition. "I guess I can stay for a few minutes."

Or seconds. I'm not afraid to throw him in front of the duck to save myself either.

He beamed, closing the door and quickly coming around to my side. I already had the door opened, but he waited patiently beside it as I climbed down and pressed the automatic lock on the driver's side door. I stepped aside and he closed it for me, smiling hugely the entire time.

For someone so afraid of the witch, he sure was acting quite chipper.

"Emily's really nice," he chattered at me, as we walked up to the front door. Sam had ditched us and already helped himself inside. "Her and Sam have been together for as long as I've known them. She'll be really excited to meet you."

"Why?" I asked as we stepped up onto their porch, Embry reaching for the door handle to let us in.

He shrugged noncommitaly at this, opening the door for me. "That's just Emily for you."

I squinted suspiciously at him, but went inside anyway. Embry wasn't two steps behind me. I could feel his heat on my back through my clothes. He bent down so that his lips were at my ear. I could feel him literally breathing down my neck.

I stiffened.

"It would be really cool," he whispered to me, "if I could introduce the two of you by name."

I turned my face slightly in his direction. "You know what else would be really cool? Underwater basket weaving."

I didn't wait for a response, but glanced around the place. Pretty normal looking; no mythical beings walking around and no duck ransacking the place. All together, I'd have to say that it passed my Normal Meter inspection.

That, and something smelled _really _good in here.

We were standing in the living room, and we could hear voices coming from what I assumed was the kitchen. I eyed the huge couch they had, along with all the other chairs they had crammed in here. They all looked well used and quite lived in.

I crossed my arms uncomfortably and shifted back and forth from foot to foot.

Now that I was here, what was I supposed to do?

That question was answered for me as Sam suddenly appeared, a trace of a smile on his lips. A woman's voice followed from behind him.

"Dinner isn't quite ready yet. I wasn't expecting you boys til later tonight. How was pat-" She broke off when Sam stepped aside and she saw me for the first time. A smile lit half of her homely face as she wiped her hands with a dish rag. "I don't think we've been introduced. Hi, I'm Emily, Sam's wife. It's very nice to meet you." She held out her hand for me to shake.

I stared at her, jaw on the floor. The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. "_Da-yum _girl..."

Both Embry and Sam froze at my outburst. Embry's hadn was at my elbow, holding onto it so tightly it alsmot hurt. Sam looked pissed, moving to step in front of Emily. But I wasn't done yet.

My eyes were glued to her protruding stomach the entire time. "You _glow_."

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**Thank you so much to all who reviewed! I'm really glad to hear that you are enjoying the story thus far :) Penelope will be properly introduced to everyone in the following chapter, so no worries. And no, the whole witch/duck thing has absolutely nothing to do with the story, Penelope was just being overly ridiculous at the time hahaha**

**Thank you all again for your reviews!**

**-GrumpySunshine**


	4. Chapter 3

So it wasn't the best first impression I'd ever made. Bite me.

"Could you pass the biscuits over, _Penelope_?" I shot Embry a quick glare, almost hating the smug little smirk he had on his face. Honestly, the whole use of my full name was getting quite obnoxious. He'd been adding my name onto the last of all of his sentences ever since I introduced myself, as if to make a point or whatever.

I shoved the plate of biscuits none too gently into his waiting palm, only hoping after I had done it that it didn't break under the force. That would have sucked.

"So," Emily broke in, smiling kindly at me, "you said you were new to the area? Where are you from originally?"

"I used to live back in California with my parents," I said, deciding to ignore Embry, who was smirking down at his over filled plate of food. "We lived in Orange County my whole life, so the move up here was like a huge shock to my system."

She laughed delicately. "I can only imagine. But the beaches there must have been amazing..."

And on and on it went for awhile. Once everyone had calmed down over my meltdown over Emily's pregnancy, we were all herded into the small dining room to sit down for a meal. That's where we spent most of our time, mostly because I didn't think Sam or Embry would ever stop eating. It was like watching a marathon of Man Vs. Food episodes without the commercials in between. Never. Ending.

But while they stuffed their faces, Emily continued to ask me questions about where I was from, what was I doing with my life, where did I see myself in five years, how did I meet the boys, etc. The last one brought on a serious bout of concern on her part, which led to a somewhat unnecessary -but totally enjoyable- reprimanding of the man in question from Sam.

And I got to know Emily a little bit better over dinner, too. She loved to talk about her baby (who was due in a little over two months), and she got really excited when she started to describe her ideas about the nursery. It was already mostly finished; they just had to rearrange the furniture until it was to Emily's liking and put all of the baby stuff away. She talked endlessly about how they had to go about getting neutral looking furniture, because they decided to wait until the baby was born to find out if it was a boy or a girl. She leaned in conspiratorially, whispering that Sam had told her that he didn't care what the baby turned out to be, but that she knew he secretly hoped for a little boy.

I smiled and nodded and laughed at all of the right parts, finding it surprisingly easy to be excited for her and her upcoming newborn.

Embry began to pay more attention to our conversation as the food on his plate steadily disappeared. He began to lean in bit by bit, angling his head so that he could hear our conversation better. He would interject every now and then, having some comment to say about this or that, or to ask a question about myself and what I thought of things.

But I still wasn't really sure what to make of him, so my answers were a little more than a bit sarcastic. But only a little.

I didn't wait long after dinner before I excused myself, using work and daily hygiene as my excuse to plead off staying for dessert. Embry's face fell at the news, but he was the first up and walked me to my car, keeping his hand lightly on the small of my back as he led me from the house.

I thanked Emily for dinner, nodding at Sam, and promised her that I would come and visit her sometime. Even pregnant, she was fun to be around, and I didn't want to stay holed up in my apartment all day every day either.

"So, you're going to come back and visit soon?" Embry asked, leaning through the open window of my car door as I started the engine. His voice was deep and soft, and even sitting in my truck, I had to look up to make eye contact with him.

I shrugged, buckling up my seat belt. "Yeah, I guess. Whenever Emily wants to get together again."

Looking down, he nodded slowly, tapping his fingers where he had his arms folded across the door.

I watched awkwardly for a minute, wondering if I should just come out and end this somewhat uncomfortable charade, or if I should just roll up the window and hope he got the hint.

But really, I mean, it could have been worse. Embry could have ended up being really ugly, or really mean, or he could have made a big deal about almost getting run over. But he wasn't, and he didn't, and he invited me over for dinner. In a roundabout, unconventional manner, it was all very nice of him. Plus, I couldn't deny that he was an attractive guy. Dark hair and tanned skin and muscular?

Yeah, I'd tap that.

When his head snapped up and his dark gaze pinned me to my seat, though, I realized what his most attractive attribute was. His smile.

Which he was shooting at me right this very moment. "I really enjoyed having dinner with you tonight, Penelope. I want to do it again sometime, if that's okay with you."

So what if my undeniably female side kicked in and I had to double check that he was asking me out on a real date, and not just asking me back to hang out at the house again? Every girl is entitled to a little reassurance.

His grin widened, and he nodded happily. "Yeah, I want it to be a date. Just the two of us. Is that ok?"

Really, I'd only known this guy for a handful of hours, and in that time span, I'd not only managed to avoid hitting him with my car, but make a grand spectacle of myself when introduced to his friends. And now I was getting asked out on a date?

"Sure," I smiled back, feeling my ears heat up a bit by his pleased attention. "That'd be nice."

Hey, stranger things have happened.

(0(oo)0)

"Nice job today guys!" I enthused, sweating slightly as I gazed about my class of high school students. The girls all grumbled to themselves, clearly not happy with the work out, and the boys generally ignored me, but that was only to be expected. Their attention spans weren't exactly developed yet, after all.

"You guys are excused; I'll be seeing you all tomorrow!"

I turned my back on them, letting their gym teachers gather them together and herd them into the locker rooms. I was putting my CD away and unplugging my boom box when a throat cleared itself behind me. "Miss Dermand?"

I turned at the voice, looking up into the smiling, boyish face before me. "What can I do for you, sir?" I smiled, placing my hands on my hips and read the name quickly off of his p.e. shirt. _Clearwater, Seth._

He stuck out his hand for me to shake and introduced himself. "Seth Clearwater; I'm one of Embry Call's friends."

My eyebrows shot up at this news. "Really, now?" I drawled. "How do you two know each other, again?"

"He used to go to school with my sister; she was in an older grade though. We hung out a lot when I was still in junior high and him and the boys were in high school." He shrugged at this in a 'what can you do?' fashion, never letting the smile falter from his face.

"And what? You complained to him about the hard ass they hired for gym classes?" I teased, knowing full well what the kids said about my workouts when they though I wasn't listening.

He laughed at this, a deep, unapologetic, belly chuckle that made him seem like the high school student he was, and not the adult that he looked like.

Because believe you me, he looked old enough to buy me a drink without being carded.

"No, I haven't complained about you," he chuckled. "I actually think your classes are pretty cool. Embry's the one that's been talking about you."

Talking about me already? I'd only just met the guy last night; how fast does word travel around here? "Oh yeah? And what's he had to say?"

"Just that he's really excited about your date this weekend, and how cool he thinks you are." He shrugged at this, as if this information was common knowledge.

I nodded once, not sure what to think of having one of my students come up to me and talk about my dating status. I finally settled with, "I'm glad he's looking forward to it. It should be fun."

Seth continued to smile at me, seemingly content with my answer. "I'll tell him you said that. He'll be glad to hear it."

Wait - "Wait; was this some sort of recognizance mission? Did he dupe you into gathering intel for him?"

He stared blankly back at me. I imagine it was because he'd never heard so many big words in a sentence before.

And then he was laughing. Again. "You're funny," he said, clapping me once on the shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah? Got to get going if I'm not going to be late for class, you know?"

I watched after him disbelievingly as he ran back into the locker rooms. Really? 'You're funny,' that's all I got?

Shaking my head, I turned back to gathering up my stuff. Stranger things indeed.

* * *

**So I hope that everything is to everyone's liking! Sorry that this story was slow in updating; I am fascinated with the wolves and the imprint aspect of their lives, and I've been thinking about it a lot as of late, so I'm hoping that updates will be able to come quicker and more often. **

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and who has continued to support me and my works. Thank you so much for your kind words and well wishes; I truly appreciate it!**

**-GrumpySunshine**


	5. Chapter 4

I jolted awake, scrambling to get out of the tangle of sheets, quilts and blankets I had buried myself under to escape the damn Washington cold. I have never had to use so much cloth at one time in my entire life just to stay lukewarm. What_ is_ this insanity?

The rough banging continued, and I grumbled as I stumbled out of bed, slipping on the wooden floors in my fuzzy socks as I made my way towards the front door.

Who do I even know here that would come and get me at two o'clock in the morning? This had better be an emergency, damn it.

I grabbed at the bat I kept next to the door and twisted the lock. "I swear, the complex had better be on _fire_-!"

The door was shoved open from the outside, causing me to stumble back and out of it's way. I didn't see much, what with all of the lights out and the sun not being up and all that. But I did register the large hand coming down towards my face and reacted accordingly.

Or overreacted accordingly. Whatever. It was dark and I had a bat. You do the math.

The howl of pain from my assailant may or may not have brought a smile to my face. I was too busy bringing the bat back for a second blow to really be paying much attention to my facial expressions at the moment.

"Jesus _Christ,_ stop! Stop! Miss Dermand, it's me!"

I just barely stopped the bat from embedding itself in his skin. Again. "_Seth_?" I demanded, still gripping the bat like I was determined to make the next pitch a home run. "What are you _doing_ here?"

"You hit me," he blubbered childishly, rubbing at the side of his neck and upper shoulder. "With a bat. You hit me with a _bat."_

"You're lucky I didn't stab you with a knife!" I yelled, continuing aghast with, "You know where I live. How do you know where I live? You're a freaking P.E. student. You're not supposed to know where I live!"

"You're not supposed to abuse your students either, you know!" he snapped, suddenly snatching for the bat I still held at the ready. I side stepped him soundly, twisting the bat away from him. He raised his finger warningly, "_Don't_ hit me again."

"Get your finger out of my face before I bite it," I snapped back.

"Can you just put it down, please? I don't want you to hit me again, okay?"

"Tell me how you know where I live and what the hell you came here for and maybe I will," I countered, twisting the bat in threatening circles behind me.

"Look, I just need your help, ok?" he said, taking a step closer. "Please, Miss Dermand? It's an emergency."

"An emergency you need your teacher for at two o'clock in the morning?" I demanded, taking a respective step back. "You're not even dressed! Just what kind of 'help' are you looking for, exactly?"

"I-I didn't have time to get dressed, alright?" he explained, turning his wide, pleading eyes to me. Probably to distract from the fact he wasn't wearing a shirt. "I need your help Miss Dermand, please? Please come with me?"

"Oh, for Pete's sake," I relented with a growl, tossing the bat off to the side. "Let me grab my shoes and keys alright? Where do we need to go? Do I need to call someone?"

Stupid teenagers and their stupid problems. Stupid night crawling, immature young people.

I snatched my keys up off my dresser and grabbed the pair of boots I had kicked off and left at the foot of my bed.

I came out of my room, still in my fuzzy socks, boots in hand. "Well let's go," I said, waving my keys at him and motioning him to continue in front of me.

Which, apparently he either didn't see or chose to ignore. He was right under my feet the entire walk to my truck and practically sat in my lap when we got in.

"Where do we need to go to?" I asked, starting up the truck and pulling out. When he didn't answer right away, my suspicions came back. "Seth," I snapped, glaring at him from the corner of my eye as I turned onto the street. "You didn't wake me up so I could take you on a condom run, did you? I swear, if you did, I will _call your mother_ and _beat you with my bat._"

"What?" he gasped, staring at me, mouth open wide. "No!"

"What did you need, a pregnancy test then? Did you get some girl _pregnant_?"

"No! I didn't-!"

"Is that why you came here half naked? Cause you were with some girl and now she's pregnant and you needed someone to take you to the local pharmacy? What's wrong with you?"

"I wasn't with anyone! Nothing happened!"

"The hell it didn't! You weren't being smart at all!" I gasped at a sudden thought, stepping on the brakes abruptly. "Do I need to take you to get_ tested_?"

"I wasn't having sex with anybody!" He yelled, face red. "I don't need condoms, I don't need a pregnancy test and I don't need to be tested! I need to get to Sam and Emily's house!"

"Why?" I demanded, suddenly on high alert at the mention of Emily. "What's wrong with Emily? Is it the baby? Did something happen to the baby?"

"Look, can we just get there please?" He begged, voice straining (for whatever reason).

We didn't speak again the entire trip. I sped down the deserted, damp roads into La Push and to the somewhat familiar neighborhood I had visited a couple of days ago. Seth didn't have his seatbelt on, and was probably too high strung to be capable of that at the moment. Instead, he gripped the door handle, his fists tensing and loosening randomly. He had the window rolled down and the wind cut across his seat to bite through my sweatshirt and fuzzy socks. I hadn't had the time to put my boots on yet.

I turned sharply into the driveway of Emily's house and jerked the truck into park. All of the lights were on, both upstairs and downstairs. But for the emergency that Seth was making this out to be, there was a suspicious lack of activity in the house. No ambulance or fire trucks outside, and not a police cruiser to be found.

What the fuck kind of emergency was this?

"C'mon," he urged, throwing open his door and grabbing onto my wrist. Without even looking back, he dragged me across the seat and through the passenger side door, slamming it closed behind me.

"Hey!" I opposed indignantly, not reacting in time to grab my boots before I was out in the freezing cold.

Where were we, the arctic? I mean, really.

He didn't have to drag me this time as we hurried up the drive to the front door. He threw it open in front of us, guiding me inside and shutting and locking it immediately behind us.

"Sam?" Emily called from where I knew the kitchen to be. "Sam?"

The strain and slight panic in her voice had me on edge.

"Em-"

"Emily?" I bypassed Seth completely and booked it to the kitchen. She was in the middle of the doorway when I reached her, hands on her stomach. "What's wrong?" I demanded, reaching my hands out to put on top of hers, as if I could feel what was wrong with the baby through her hands, forgetting for a second that I wasn't superhuman. "Is it the baby? Do you need to get to the hospital? Does Sam know?"

"You have to use your Gentle Hands."

I peered around Emily at the unfamiliar, childish voice that was admonishing me so seriously. A little girl, maybe ten years old, stood in her Disney Princess pajamas, eating what looked like to be a bunch of cookies off of a plate set on the kitchen table. She had cute, curly hair and a sleepy look about her large, brown eyes.

"I thought this was your first child?" I addressed Emily, completely distracted from the emergency at hand now. "Where've you been hiding this one - the basement?"

"My mom says I'm not allowed in our basement unless I have a grown up with me," the little girl answered very matter of factly - for a ten year old. "And my mom says we have to use our Gentle Hands when we touch Aunt Emily's baby. Are you using your Gentle Hands? I always have to tell Aunt Emily I'll use my Gentle Hands before I touch her belly."

"Penelope," Emily smiled, taking my hands away from her tummy. Apparently, they weren't gentle handsy enough for her. "I'd like you to meet my niece, Claire. Claire, this is Miss Penelope, Embry's special friend."

I snorted, giving her a look that clearly asked are-you-even-serious-right-now? "I'm sorry, his what?"

"Is that like a best friend?" Claire wondered, wandering over to sit at the table for better access to her cookies. "I have a best friend, too. Does that make me a special friend?"

"You bet it does," I answered for her, sending Emily a wicked grin. "That makes you guys super special friends. The specialist kind of special friends. More special than even me and Embry, if you can believe it!"

"I can believe it," Claire hastened to reassure me. "I believe a lot of things, so I can believe special friends, too."

"Maybe we should take this conversation into another room, before you send my niece even more mixed information," Emily muttered the last part, turning to smile at Claire. "I'll be right back, okay sweetie? You just finish your cookies, and then we'll go to bed."

Claire turned back to her plate and picked up a cookie. "Okay."

"So what's the big hullabaloo?" I asked once we were safely separated from the child. A quick glance revealed that Seth had made like a banana and split. Who drags someone out of bed for an emergency they don't even stick around for? Punk.

"Don't worry yourself too much," Emily began with.

"What?" I laughed once. "I had a half dressed teenage boy who probably needs medical attention for his shoulder - not my fault, by the way - knock down my door in the middle of the night for an emergency of epic proportions, and you're telling me _not_ to worry?"

"Not to worry_ too much_," she emphasized, rubbing her tummy in soothing circles.

"Well let's have it then." I motioned for her to bring it on.

"Sam, Embry and a couple of the other boys are chief security around here," she explained, reaching out to hold my hand. "Sam called not too long ago, and there's been some sort of disturbance on the res. He and the boys are taking care of it, but when something like this happens, we like to have everyone in one place so that we can better keep everyone safe."

"Some sort of disturbance? Is that code for psychotic murderer?"

Emily shook her head, a small, somewhat ironic smile on her lips. "We don't necessarily know what kind of disturbance; we won't know for sure until the boys are home and everything has been dealt with accordingly. We sent Seth to bring you here with us so that you wouldn't be home alone on a night like tonight."

"_You_ sent Seth?" I questioned, brow raised. At her nod, I threw my hands up, exasperated. "How does everybody even know where I live? Is there some sort of neon sign I'm not aware of directing everyone to my residence?"

Emily laughed, reaching out again to take my hand for support. "That one is a question more easily explained. We live in a small town, Penelope," she smiled, squeezing my hand. "Everyone knows where you live." She winked.

"Well that's not creepy or at all stalkerish," I grumped at her. "And don't you think a Kick Boxing instructor would be safer at home alone with a psychotic murderer on the loose, than a seventeen year old kid wandering the streets alone in search of said instructor? Where'd that punk go anyway?"

"Seth will be fine," Emily assured, placing her hand on my arm. "He's probably back at home with his mother, making sure she's okay."

"Wouldn't she be here? You know, with our 'group'?"

Emily shook her head, her small smile back in place. "If anything is going to happen to Sue Clearwater, it's going to have to drag her out of her home tooth and nail and over her dead body."

"Fair enough. What's your niece doing here? You on babysitting duty?"

"Of a sorts," she grinned wryly, leading me back towards the kitchen and the little girl with her cookies inside it.

"So what'd I need to be here for? Seth said he needed my help?" I slipped into the chair across from Claire, who was just beginning to finish up the last of her cookies.

"Well," Emily said, padding over to the frig to poor a glass of milk. "I was hoping you wouldn't mind helping an old girl out? There's no telling how long these kinds of things will last, and I'd rather not just stay home by myself. There's not much a pregnant lady can do with an eight year old to look after. I hoped you wouldn't mind staying with us? Keep me company and help out with Claire. Be the security around here with the boys gone. You _are_ a Kick Boxing instructor, after all." She threw a grin over her shoulder.

"You want me to spend the night?" I clarified, sliding the glass of milk Emily set on the table over to Claire.

"I'd really appreciate it if you would," Emily said, leaning her back against the counter. "And most of tomorrow, if you're free? Hopefully Sam will be home before then, but you never know." She trailed off quietly at this, looking lost in some uneasy thoughts.

"Of course I can do that," I acquiesced easily, leaning back in the chair. "I'd prefer a phone call next time, but if Seth's all you got, I guess I can deal."

"Thank you, Penelope," Emily smiled gratefully in my direction. "I really appreciate it . . . and I know Embry will feel better knowing that you weren't on your own tonight." She winked.

"Is that why I'm here, Aunt Emily?" Claire questioned, setting down her half empty glass of milk. "Quil said we were going to have a slumber party. Is he going to be here soon?"

"I don't know when Quil's going to be back sweetie," Emily answered as honestly as she could.

"But he said we were going to have a slumber party," Claire insisted. "He has to be here soon if we're going to have a slumber party."

"I just don't know when they'll be back, Claire. They might not come home until after you've gone to bed."

"I won't go to bed until Quil gets back then," she declared rather loudly. Is every child capable of reaching that decibel level at this age?

"Claire, you are going to bed after you finish your milk, do you understand?" Emily mother-voiced her.

"No!" Claire screamed back, her entire face going red. "I won't go to bed without Quil! He promised he'd be here! I won't go to bed yet!"

I sat back in my chair, completely out of my depth with this screaming girl in front of me and the pregnant woman that looked like she was going to eat her. Was this the time to get the paddle out? Did people still do that? I hit Seth with my bat just a half hour earlier, so maybe . . .

"You will watch your tone with me, young lady," Emily warned her. "It's already passed your bedtime and I have been very lenient with you on the cookies before bed already. Quil will be back in the morning. Until then, you need to listen and do as your told, do you understand?"

Then Claire did something I would've been beaten for if I ever did this to my mother at her age. She screamed, a wordless shriek, and she _threw her dishes on the floor_.

As in, she threw her not-plastic plate on the floor, right next to her not-plastic cup. Neither of which were plastic, just to clarify. I didn't even have my boots with me. I feared for my fuzzy socked feet suddenly.

"Claire!" Emily's eyes were on fire. "Come here, young lady. You and I are going to have a talk."

Claire was crying as Emily tugged her out of the kitchen and down the hall. I heard a door slam shut and assumed Claire was getting the talking to of her life.

And here I thought this sleep over of ours was going to be drama free. It's like high school all over again. I wondered if someone had stuck a bra in the freezer yet?

I scooted back the chair and grabbed a bunch of paper towels from off the counter, dropping them onto the milk that was on the floor. I used my toe to prod it all in the direction I needed it to go, too lazy to get down on my hands and knees, clean up the mess and then have to stand back up again.

With that done, I went in search of a broom, finding it hiding between the frig and the pantry. I was practically finished when a teary faced Claire and a somewhat blotchy Emily reappeared.

"Claire has something she'd like to say, don't you Claire?" Both Claire and I knew that wasn't really a question. I wondered briefly if that's where Sam got his habit from?

"I'm sorry Miss Penelope," she hiccupped out, rubbing at her wet cheeks. "I'm really sorry I broke the plates. I didn't mean it."

"Hey, no problem kiddo," I shrugged, turning back to the mess on the floor. "I'll have this cleaned up in no time. You probably need to get ready for bed, huh?" I glanced up at Emily, hoping for some sort of confirmation.

"Claire's going to help you clean up her mess before she goes to bed, aren't you Claire?" Emily directed at her niece, who nodded and managed a mumbled 'yes ma'am' before going over to the frig to get her own broom.

Emily shook her head at me, crossing her arms over her stomach. "Quil spoils her too much," she vented calmly. "She's normally quite well mannered, I swear. I don't know what's gotten into her tonight."

Maybe it's the psychotic murderer that's out roaming the streets. That's what I wanted to say, anyway. But I was pretty sure if I did, I'd be the one getting a firm talking to, so I kept it to myself.

"She's just out of whack tonight," I shrugged, going back to sweeping up the mess.

Emily yawned, attempting to hide it behind her hand. I waved her away as she looked around for a chair to settle in. "Go lay down," I told her. "We've got it in here, and your feet have got to be killing you. Go get some rest."

"Are you sure?" Emily questioned, shifting from foot to foot, a visible effort of her trying to stay awake. "I don't want you to have to deal with anymore temper tantrums."

I shooed her away. "Go lay down, Emily. We've got it in here."

"Well, alright," Emily relented, walking over to her niece, carefully avoiding the pieces of broken china on the floor. She looped an arm around the young girl and squeezed her against her side firmly. "Goodnight, Claire. Be a good girl for Miss Penelope, okay? I love you."

Emily waddled her way on out, leaving me and the eight year old she-beast to clean up the floor together.

How does one start a conversation with an eight year old girl, I'd like to know?

She stood forlornly over her mess, not really doing a very good job of sweeping with the broom. I mean, you got to give her brownie points what with being shorter than it and probably having never used one and all. But she just looked so sad and it was so awkward. So what did I do, you ask?

"Duh nuh! Duh nuh nuh _nuh_ na! Duh nuh nuh _nuh_ na! Duh nuh nuh nuh!"

Apparently, I turned into Luke Skywalker.

I wielded my broom like a lightsaber, making the whooshing noises and striking over dramatic poses as I swung it about.

Claire stared at me with big watery eyes. Star Wars couldn't have been beyond her generation, right? I wasn't that old . . .

"The force is strong in this one, me thinks," I jabbered on, sweeping the last bits of the broken shards into a quick pile and pushing them under the table for later consideration. "But can she wield a light saber, I wonder? Think you can outdo me, young padawan? Me thinks it not!"

I continued to make an ass out of myself, channeling my inner Jar Jar Binks, obnoxious noises seeming to just fly out of my mouth as I light sabered my way across the floor, inching closer and closer to the little girl.

"I challenge you, young jedi warrior! Prepare yourself to face the dark side!"

A giggle and I knew I was in.

She held up her broom, swinging it from side to side as I supplied the sound effects. We clashed our sabers together all across the kitchen, sometimes me with the upper hand, sometimes Claire. She surprised me once, taking her hand away from the broom and sticking it palm out in my direction. I pretended to stumble back, arms flailing as her 'force' shoved me away from her.

I guess this Star Wars business was for universal generations. Score one: Penelope.

"You've proven your strength, jedi warrior!" I declared, dropping my saber as her overpowering 'force' took it from my grip. "Perhaps you have defeated the dark side for today! But I shall be back, and the force will be on my side when I do! Then who will be of the Master Yoda Jedi level, hmm?" I really needed to brush up on my Star Wars vernacular if I planned on continuing this game later. "You still have much to learn, padawan!"

Claire laughed, dropping her broom and throwing herself on top of where I lay on the ground. "Am I better jedi warrior than Quil?" she asked, smiling up at me.

"You're a lot better than Quil," I assured her. I patted her back briskly, shifting to get up. "Now how about we clean up our mess and hit the hay? I'm tired."

"Okay," she agreed easily, much to my surprise.

After successfully managing to get all of the little pieces I had swept under the table into the trash can, I went around with Claire, checking that all of the windows and doors were locked. She held my hand as we walked down the hallway, pointing out the baby's room, Emily's room, and the spare bedroom. Emily's door was wide open, and I could hear the gentle snores coming from inside.

I guess having a baby did that to you.

"Sleep tight, alright kiddo?" I said, ruffling her hair. She smiled and ducked away from my hand, tip toeing none too quietly into Emily's room to sleep for the night.

Turning off the hall light as I went, I opened up the door to their spare bedroom, and immediately zeroed in on the large, well made bed up against the wall. Bee-lining my way for it, I burrowed my way under the covers and was almost immediately out as soon as my head hit the pillow.

I wasn't nearly the grumpasoarus I was the second time I was woken up that night.

"Miss Penelope?" Claire whispered, shaking my cheek a little to wake me up. "Are you awake?"

"No," I mumbled back. "I'm sleeping. Whatcha want, kiddo?"

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" Claire whispered, leaning in close to my face to see if my eyes were open.

"Emily too loud for you?" I asked, shifting back against the wall and lifting my blanket up in invitation. She crawled in immediately, snuggling up to my body as I wrapped the blanket back around us.

"No snoring, alright? Or I'll push you off the bed," I warned groggily, settling back down into the bed, my arm wrapped around Claire.

She giggled sleepily, cuddling into the warmth against my body and the blankets. "You're really funny, Miss Penelope. I like you."

"Yeah? You're pretty tolerable yourself, kid."

"I like it when you call me 'kiddo'," she mumbled, already half asleep. "No one else calls me that."

"I'll call you kiddo if you just call me Penelope, hmm? Deal?" My eyes were closed, our breathing beginning to even out.

"Deal," she sighed, yawning and dead to the world.

Drifting off, I had time for one last that.

Again, 'you're funny', that's all I got?

* * *

**I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! It was a lot of fun to write, and hopefully not completely out of left field. 'Psychotic Murderer'. Hmmm, I wonder what that could be? ;p**

**Embry and the gang next chapter! Maybe even a romantic date night? We'll see where Penelope takes us ;p**

**Thank you again for reading and reviewing! I really appreciate it, and hopefully I'll be able to update again soon! :)**

**-GrumpySunshine**


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